What can I say...

The squalor filled with vermin yields
A group of tiny hooves and squeals
Arranged in rows of pink by pink
They drink from an old kitchen sink

A hoard of food on top of straw
Most plentiful you ever saw
They sat, observed and then they ate
Lapped up the quantities so great

A disregard for guilt or greed
No understanding of their need
Desire to consume all they could
Was growing in them and they would

As privileged swine they had the right
To go through life without a fight
Be given more than they could dream
To eat the cake and all the cream

The blessed blood within their veins
Gives them the pow’r to hold the reigns
A right of few and far between
Be born to rule, be king and queen
 

He leant his solemn head, put brow to palm,

A sight for all to see, he knelt, he wretched,

And felt that heightened sense of great alarm,

Then there he crouched beneath with baited breath,

A pounding beat so trapped beneath his chest,

His neck it tensed to raise his weary head,

A violent pulse of truth that would not rest,

He saw in light his life, his world, his bread.

And so he sensed a light to change the past,

A chance to change the then accepted old,

To move on foreword and raise up his mast,

It was not lost, desires in him were bold,

To overcome what sorrows went before,

And keep to that future forever more.

And there he crouched beneath with baited breath,

A sight for all to see, he knelt, he wretched,

He leant his solemn head, put brow to palm,

And felt that heightened sense of great alarm,

His neck it tensed to raise his weary head,

To see in light his life, his world, his bread,

A pounding beat so trapped beneath his chest,

A violent pulse of truth that would not rest,

The desire to live, the desire to stand,

The desire to love and live our plans,

A feeling new but oh so very old,

It wasn’t lost and he knew he felt bold,

To overcome what sorrows went before,

And keep to that future forever more.